Page 81 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

She frowns, seeing right through it.

“What did he do?” she asks, looking ready to go and rip Calvin a new one.

“Nothing,” I say in a rush. “He hasn’t done anything.” And that’s the freaking problem.

He left me with the promise of something, and now I’m just hanging around, waiting for it to happen, like one of those annoying girls who needs a man to be happy.

I am not one of those girls.

“I’m just thinking about everything I need to do before I go tomorrow.”

“Then go home and do it,” Bea suggests.

“I just need to schedule some social media posts, finish off this week’s newsletter, and then I’m leaving.”

“Sienna,” she warns.

“It’ll take me like thirty minutes, tops.”

She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. Thankfully, her next client chooses that moment to stroll through the door, saving me from a lecture.

Unsurprisingly, I’m still sitting in exactly the same place when Bea returns, her client smiling and gazing down at her new set of nails.

“So much for half an hour,” Bea mutters as she takes her lady’s payment.

“I’m almost done,” I assure her. Honestly, with social media, it’s never almost done. There’s always another video that could be filmed, and more interaction to be done. It’s endless and exhausting. But it’s totally worth it when we get a new client call and see that they saw our posts and want to book. Although now would probably be a good time to cool off on it, considering our waitlist. But I don’t want to. It makes me want to push harder, to prove to Bea that my expansion ideas aren’t crazy, and that we could actually do it.

Finally, I hit the schedule button on our newsletter, and I hop off the stool I’m sitting on. Bea turns her narrowed eyes to me, and I hold my hands up in defeat.

“I’m going. I’m going,” I say as I back away from her.

“Have you even packed?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

“I’ve opened my suitcase.”

She rolls her eyes.

“What? I’m going to my parents’; it’s not like I need much.”

A smile breaks free, and she moves closer, letting her bump collide with my smaller stomach as she gives me a hug. “Have an amazing time.”

“Thank you,” I say, squeezing her back. “Make sure Rett gives you the most perfect Thanksgiving ever.”

“It’s going to be great. I’m excited to celebrate surrounded by people.” My heart aches for my bestie. Since walking away from her own family, her holidays have looked a little different. She’s been with me to see my parents and celebrate in Idaho, but mostly she prefers to stay here and work. I think it’s her way of distracting herself from everything she lost, even if it was the right decision.

This year, though, is going to be very different for her. There’s a part of me that wishes I were staying and celebrating Thanksgiving with a handful of Vipers. Or maybe just one in particular…But no matter how hot he is, nothing would keep me away from my parents.

“Send me photos?”

“Of course. You too. And say hi to your parents for me.”

Eventually, after saying goodbye to all the girls, I manage to get out of the salon. Anyone would think I’m disappearing for a month, not just a few days.

The drive home is a blur. My head is spinning with all the things I need to do, what I need to pack, the gifts I need to ensure are placed safely in my luggage.

I have a mental list running in my head that’s getting longer and longer by the second, but my focus is shot because my stomach is growling, desperate for some food. But I don’t have time to sit and eat. Once I’ve packed, I’ll grab something.

I stumble out of the elevator, flustered and already stressed without having even seen my suitcase, but the second I look up, everything vanishes—because there’s a man standing at my front door.